


An Unremarkable Life

by Kiltedsquirrel



Category: The X-Files, The X-Files: I Want To Believe (2008)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Some Plot, The unremarkable house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-19 20:30:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5980110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiltedsquirrel/pseuds/Kiltedsquirrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scully's thoughts and memories when revisiting the unremarkable house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unremarkable Life

**Author's Note:**

> This was written pre-IWTB when various promo pictures and tidbits of information were released. This story floated around but was never archived because after viewing IWTB I needed to hibernate from the fandom.
> 
> All helpful feedback is appreciated.

 

The unremarkable office                    

8:33 pm

 

"I didn't know if you'd come," Mulder called over his shoulder as he sat poring over a file at his desk. He had listened to the familiar click of heels approach, a slow smile relaxing the strain on his face.

"Yeah you did," Scully said with a resigned sigh, coming to a stop in the open doorway. Her eyes swept carefully across the room. It was bathed in darkness; light from a couple of desk lamps illuminated a cluttered desk and cast long shadows against the walls. The glare from a noiseless television brightened his broad back and bent shoulders. A distressed poster, half-lit on the far wall caught her gaze, its image causing her eyes to slip closed for a moment. The room was too familiar, unmistakably Mulder. She felt a rush of affection for him and silently rebuked herself for it. This wasn't healthy. Yet she felt drawn in like a moth to a flame.                           

"Thank you," he said gently, having turned to face her. "Like old times, don't you think?"

"Mulder," she said, shaking her head slowly. "Mulder I'm here because I'm worried about you." His face fell. "You...you show up at my work, at a hospital Mulder, you risk exposing yourself, you put me at risk, everything we've worked to protect at risk. What if you had been found? There were children on that ward."

"If this is a house-call Dr Scully, I'm afraid you've had a wasted trip..." She sensed that his tone was deceptively light, knew he was consciously trying to keep things amicable between them. It made her feel nervous, she'd sooner avoid a confrontation with him right now. "...And if it isn't, you might wanna take your coat off."

She obliged, fussing with it in her arms. Old habits sometimes made it difficult for them to discuss their feelings outright. Walls were quickly thrown up between them and she was too tired to deal with another barrier. "What happened to the dining room?" She asked awkwardly, wide eyes again scanning the room.

"I don't do much entertaining," Mulder quipped, stretching to take the coat from her and throwing it across to a battered armchair. "What do you know about this case?"

"Just what I've seen and read in the media," Scully began. "Local P.D have no solid lead on the murders. They haven't concluded if the choice of victim was opportunistic or premeditated. Scaremongering in the media is creating a panic, 'ritual murder' and 'satanic crime' isn't something folks in Virginia want to be reading about over their breakfast cereal...yes I know," she waved away his attempt at interruption, "...except the body parts have been discovered in random abandonment and not laid out by design as would be consistent with ritual killing...Mulder the Bureau can handle this."

"It was the Bureau who contacted me." His fingers drummed over the open files on his desk.

"Yes, you told me that at the hospital. This female agent, she also has faith in that psychic character?" Scully asked, still surprised.

"And so the mantle is passed," he said with mock pride. "He's the best lead we have right now. Scully you've seen evidence of extra-sensory perception in your work with the X-Files."

She nodded slowly, "I admit to having experienced phenomena which can't easily be explained...or," she added, seeing the delight on his face, "vindicated for that matter either. What I certainly cannot explain is your continued need to seek the credible in the incredible."

"I've met with him, Scully, and 'scientifically conclusive proof' aside," he said making finger quotes, "I think he's the real deal. I've been reading about him too. Did you know that before the discovery of the Americas, people in the Highlands of...," he tapped an image of Father Joe, "... Scotland, believed themselves to live at the end of the world? And from this far flung outpost of existence, they claimed the psychic ability known as second sight or the two sights. It's still present today. Think about it Scully, a vantage point from which to peer into another time..."

She couldn't help but roll her eyes a little, "bred from ignorance and isolation." She had forgotten how frustrating his romanticized, unworkable ideas could be. "And speaking of the latter, there are no windows in here Mulder." She couldn't stop the low hiss of exasperation, throwing up her hands to where sunlight once streamed in from outside. Not even a cobweb remained, they had been bricked, plastered and covered with a mishmash of newspaper articles and old photographs.

He stood up. "Everything I need to see is in this room." His eyes lingered over her face as he said it. He turned and moved towards a map of the U.S, preparing to launch into another detail about the case.

"Why here?" She ventured, seeing her opening in the look he gave her. It was a question that had burned in her mind on the drive from the hospital. This was their home once. Home for a brief time, for a stolen time when reality was suspended and the future forgotten. Necessity drove them apart, or so it was easier, perhaps kinder to believe. In any case they'd fallen away from each other. Until today she didn't even known if Mulder was in the country. Returning to this house after all these years was difficult for her. "Mulder?" she urged.

"I like the neighbors." She gave an impatient little sigh. She knew there wasn't a living soul for at least two miles. "Scully," he cautioned, a note of irritation in his voice. "I asked for your help, I need your help, nagging concern has no service to me." She wanted to fight him on it but the silent plea she saw in his eyes asked her to leave it alone.

She appeased him by reading over the autopsy reports on the victims' remains. Silence stretched between them as they both read, punctuated only by short questions and clipped responses. It had been a long day in another long week, Scully rubbed her head and tossed the report she was reading back on the pile. She wandered across to the poster she'd seen when first entering the room and fingered the edge of its creases, mouthing the words to herself.

"Want the name of my decorator?" Mulder asked, glancing up from his computer.

"You miss it don't you?"

He nodded slowly, understanding she meant the X-Files.

Scully made a show of looking around the office again. "Well you've successfully grafted your old office onto my former dining room."

He grinned over at her, "admit it, you want a desk."

"Resurrected that old video collection as well?" She teased. Years ago that would have won her a smile or a smart ass reply, but instead a strange look passed over his face. It disturbed her, because just for a moment his mask had slipped and she glimpsed the pain in his eyes. To make it worse, he realized that she'd seen it too.

"Mulder I --"

"Let's take a break," he said curtly. "I'll get the coffee."

One step forward and two steps back, she thought.

 

*****

 

She followed him out on her way to the bathroom. Turning the handle she swung the door open not to reveal porcelain fixtures and lavender soap, but a tower of boxes. Stacked floor to ceiling they toppled precariously at the sudden disturbance, stray papers already spilling out into the hall. Scully always feared meeting an undignified end with the X-Files, traumatic brain injury from a box labelled 'Bigfoot in popular culture' befitted that. She slammed the door closed just in time. "Jesus Mulder," she cursed as something crashed on the other side of the door.

"Upstairs," he called from the kitchen over what she could swear was laughter.

 

*****

The unremarkable bedroom

9:17 pm

 

Walking through the upstairs hallway to the bathroom, Scully passed a room that made her stop. She hesitated for a few moments by its door, her heart starting to beat harder. The corridor she was in was dark and empty, she could hear Mulder downstairs, rattling around in the kitchen. She swallowed nervously and pushed open the door.

Standing in the large framed doorway, her eyes adjusted to the cool, silver moonlight that swept over the bedroom. A large bed still dominated the room, the sheets and bedspread arranged better than a sales display. The room was in unnatural order, tidier even than when she herself lived here. But it was stale and lifeless, she realized that he didn't sleep there. The bedroom looked out over the back of the house and she remembered reading on the bed, listening to the bounce of a basketball in the yard. She smiled sadly in the darkness.

Six months they had hidden themselves away in this house, holding off the outside world while they rediscovered each other. The two years earlier to that allowed little time to explore their relationship and they had returned from New Mexico heartened that they could take time for themselves. Their relationship had always moved at its own pace, refusing to be rushed. They indulged in that, smiling at hesitant hands and coy looks.

The room stirred memories for her, of them lying in the pale light of winter sun, their bodies warm and twisting slowly together. The cold sheets pulled tight over the bed turned soft and rumpled in her mind, she saw them bunched around his hips and scrunched in her own hand.

"Winter is erotic." He had said, looking out of the window as she stirred from sleep.

"Mulder you think everything is erotic," she said sleepily turning her face into the warm pillow. Just as she was considering another hour of sleep, she felt his weight shifting over the wooden floorboards and heard the strike of a match. "Mulder?" she questioned, reluctant to open her eyes and ruin any chance of a longer rest. Another match was struck. Curiosity won out and with an unhappy moan she stretched and blinked her eyes into focus.

"Candles? But it's morning, Mulder." He smiled and as she watched the tiny flames dance brightly in the cool, dim room, her lips curved upwards. He mouthed "morning" to her and her smile widened. She guessed it was still early, even Mulder looked as if he had just got up and he was usually awake long before her. She watched his untidy hair fall across his brow as he bent over another candle. She gasped quietly, with the arc of his back exposed, she could see lines of scratch marks running down his smooth skin. A blush stole across her face but he didn't notice the observation. Silently straightening himself, she watched his tongue sweep out to moisten his lips, blowing out the match in a quick burst of breath. It was really quite...

"So why is Winter erotic?" Scully asked him. With the candles finally lit, he returned to the window, giving her a first look at the dark section of hair showing from his half-buttoned jeans. He was quiet for a few moments, lazily rubbing stubble with his knuckles.

"The days are short, the nights oh so long..." His eyes strayed over to the bed but he didn't look at her. "Everything is still...quiet...," his voice lowered, "it almost begs to be shattered. Animals holed up 'til Spring, days when you just want to bury under the bedcovers." Around them the glow of candles flickered in the weak sunlight. "Spring is a riot of pheromones and hormones, everything in nature clambering to seed and to mate." He interlocked his fingers to emphasise the joining. "But Winter is slow, you can just take your time..."

"Take your time with what?" She asked thickly. He didn't answer, his thoughts outside in the frozen Winter morning.

"The trees and bushes bare...naked before the elements. The earth tight...hard." He absently thumbed the front of his jeans. Mulder turned slowly towards her. "How you look in Winter is erotic...the red of your lips...the chill on your breast..." He gestured lightly at the impression of her upper body through the tightly wrapped cotton sheet. "Dana please don't." Her arm stilled from covering her chest. He continued to stare at her and slowly she started to burn under the heat of it. His hand had slipped past the dark hair at his groin and she could see his fingers shift and squeeze beneath the rough denim. Her chest gave a sudden quake which was all he needed to ease the jeans off his hips and tug them carefully past his crotch. His erection rose heavily in front of him and she felt another tremble of anticipation as he approached and wordlessly slid into bed with her.

The house rested deeply, the windows frosted and the birds banished to warmer climates. They tried not to betray the surrounding silence, moving against each other with a hushed excitement, like teenagers discovering sex while their parents are in the next room. A deep blush filled her face and she bit down on her lip as his lower body shifted purposefully on top of her, his hips working his cock into position. When his erection split through her thighs to nail her body to the mattress, she moaned loudly, pushing and pulling at his chest.

"Shh," he soothed, reining in his own want. He slid a finger over her bottom lip, followed by a second, into her mouth to stifle her screams while his other hand quickly stilled her bucking hips. Having gently arrested her movements, he beat inside her with a slow force. His heart thumped heavily against her breast as he smothered a string of moans in her neck.

Scully was brought out of her reverie by her knees hitting against the stale mattress. She let out a shaky breath, realizing her thoughts had drawn her further into the room. She felt a lingering heat, the memory of his weight on her refusing to fade. She let her fingers wander across the pillows and run smoothly over the edge of the headboard. Her thoughts immediately flashed on the memory of his control snapping, his hand gripping the hard wood for leverage, his chest and neck flushed red. She saw his face tighten, "yes...oh Scully," his body arching roughly, slamming the bed against the wall, the stillness of the house breaking with their cries.

A small sob escaped her and she pressed a palm to her mouth. Dust clung to the fingertips of her other hand as she removed it from the bed. She hurried away, no longer seeing memories, but ghosts. The rustle of bed sheets and low whimpers seemed a lifetime ago. It was a haunted love.

She retreated backwards a few more steps into the hall and thudded lightly against Mulder's chest. "Miles away?" His arms reached out instinctively to steady her but slid away quickly as she turned to face him. He fixed her with a hard and questioning look, one that searched for an explanation for her foray into *that* room. Low light swung from a bare bulb further down the hallway causing his face to fall into shadow, not that she needed to see him clearly to feel the defensiveness and hostility rolling off him. He let out a low, deliberate breath and reached around her to pull the door shut, outwardly protective of the bedroom space.

"I'm sorry," she said automatically, a guilty response to a feeling that she was intruding on something. It wasn't her home after all, not now. He had his reasons for choosing it for himself and whatever cause he had to preserve their bedroom was clearly very personal for him. She expected him to withdraw. He was standing too close, invading her own space, perhaps in repayment for her disregard for his. Her mind drifted back to the room she just left, he even put out candles, she thought.

The heat of her recent thoughts crept back and a tremble ran through her. His fingers touched her shoulder lightly and his mouth bent to her ear, "cold?" She felt anything but, backed up against the closed door with Mulder's chest an inch from her own and his hand frozen on the door handle. She tried not to lower her head to him but it was difficult, as his eyes raked over her face, she knew he was reading every line of expression and noting each flinch. She chanced a look up at his eyes, wary of the anger she saw in them only minutes before. His face was still hard, dark with troubles and something else...his eyes dropped to her heels. Hunger, her brain supplied.

"Um bathroom?" She choked, abruptly side-stepping him.

"Still down the hall Scully," he said, almost whispering.

 

*****

The unremarkable bathroom

9:38 pm

 

Inside the bathroom Scully's fingers reached for a lock that didn't exist. She had forgotten that. He always seemed to know when to give her privacy and when to intrude, locks just weren't needed. She turned and rested against the strong wood of the door, her thoughts racing.

Physical want throbbed harder than ever between them. The years of pent up longing had been eased while they lived together in this house and they had often found themselves in bed. Only, it was heightened now because their bodies ached for what was being missed. "I'm not done," she could hear him say huskily, remembering a strong arm wrap around her waist to pull her back down.

Mulder had joked that it was their honeymoon period. No sooner had the words left his lips when he ducked his head shyly. That would have implied marriage, a relationship only assumed by strangers who didn't know how deep it ran for them. Because they hadn't found one another, they had collided with each other. It was the most complicated and consuming relationship she had ever shared, at times slipping into something dark and desperate. To be in Mulder's heart was to feel those things, to feel devoured. But with him she knew a love and an understanding that was unmatched and it sustained them because they knew a truth, that to be together was to become something greater than their own self. An age of promises lay between them, the oldest as important now as it had ever been, that she took his side and he had her back. That was why he needed her on the case, and it was why she ultimately knew she'd help him.

The bitterness was never lost on her, how two people could need each other beyond their own life's worth, and yet what killed them was that they weren't...three.

 

*****

An unremarkable motel room

New York

2006

 

She had agreed to meet with him at a motel outside New York. "Thought you were coming Tuesday?" His rough voice asked in the semi-darkness. Managing to locate the t.v. remote, Scully shut off the blaring television. It was Frankenstein.

"It is Tuesday, Mulder." Eyeing the collection of bottles at his side, she raised an eyebrow at him, "two guesses what happened to Monday..." His eyes tracked her from an old, leather armchair, watching her throw open the curtains and then a window. It spooked some pigeons on the outside ledge and caused him to squint in the harsh daylight. His eyes looked red and bleary and he rubbed them hard.

"Are you drunk?" She asked coolly. He gave her a sulky look but didn't answer. She knew he didn't have to live out of motels and cheap apartments, the fact that he chose this life for himself upset her.

"Pretty, pretty shoes," he mumbled moments later to her feet. "Don't I get a kiss?"

She sighed loudly and approached him without any such intention. She had zeroed in on a large, bluish bruise on his temple. Leaning over him, she pushed back stubborn locks of brown hair and lightly fingered the tender area. "Oww Scully," he squirmed.

"Mulder what happened? Did you have a fall?" He shrugged, looking at a point on her neck. "I noticed you experienced light sensitivity a moment ago, do you have a headache, Mulder? Dizziness, nausea?" Her hands shifted over his face, "you're warm...and clammy." His eyes trailed down her neck to the opening of her shirt. "You seem to be having difficulty focusing your attention..." He smiled roguishly then, his eyes rising to meet her concerned look.

"Is that any great surprise?" He traced a finger along her jaw and pressed it under her chin, tipping her face up. "Look at you, you're beautiful."

She snapped up straight and cleared her throat. "Ok, so your 'well-being' aside," Scully surveyed the room distastefully again, "would you mind telling me why you called me up here?" Before she could move away heavy hands clamped around her hips, grounding her in position between his open knees.

"About my kiss..." She resolutely turned her face away and her jaw tightened. She promised herself she wouldn't do this. They had been separated for too long and while she was no less committed to him than before, bringing down barriers only to have to reconstruct them later was too damn difficult. It was easier to exist like this, to adopt the partner role when she saw him, but Mulder was so much more to her now. Even with the smell of alcohol and stale sweat clinging to him, unwashed hair and the beginnings of a beard, he was always a sight for sore eyes and she had missed him terribly.

She leaned back over him and placed a small kiss on his forehead. At once she felt his hot mouth against her neck, his hands moving from her hips to her back, holding her near. "Mulder...," she protested in surprise but his lips only continued their sweet assault. She tried to twist out of his hold and away from his hungry mouth, her eyes already sweeping closed at the sensation. He knew from heavy nights of lovemaking what buttons to push and he found them again quickly. His lips and teeth grazed over her neck and shoulder roughening the soft skin pink. Her objections fell softer, breathier as her resistance weakened. The hands which had pushed at his shoulders now gripped them tighter for support. She felt light-headed, redness burning in her cheeks and chest. When his tongue stroked into her mouth, everything around them started to fall away so that all she could feel was his mouth and the need spreading low inside her.

"You smell so good, Scully," he groaned against her mouth. Surer now that she wouldn't turn and flee, his arms loosened around her back, sliding to her front where he worked his hands into her shirt. Moans hummed in her throat as they kissed and she raked her nails through his hair and down his jaw. Mulder's mouth moved to her ear and he spoke low, saying he missed her, how much he wanted her. His arms swept around her shoulders again and she knew he would soon pull her down onto his knee. Her eyes dropped to the long ridge pressing beneath his jeans and she tensed, knowing her control would be lost the second she settled against him, but aching for it all the same. "Scully...," he rasped against her ear, hands once more gripping her hips, ready for the descent onto his lap."...I wanna make a baby..."

Scully's eyes flew open and she staggered out of his hold. His words chilled her, more sobering than ice water. She shook her head in slow disbelief, "Mulder no." She looked into his face, he almost looked confused, like a child scolded for something it didn't know was wrong. She lay a hand across her heart. "How can you say that? How can you ask me that?"

"What's stopping us? The doctors said, *you* said Scully that you're fine now, that you're normal..." Shifting forward on the chair, he reached for her again.

"...normal..." she echoed, her voice cracking. That word again. For years normalcy was all she had wanted. To stop the car. The night she found out the IVF had failed, when she understood the gravity of what that meant to her future, the word had stuck in her throat. She couldn't rationalise the feelings she had that night, the incompleteness, the emptiness, the despairing need to feel normal, to feel female, to have him touch her.

Hot palms came to rest on her stomach. "It'll be different this time, Scully. We'll...we'll disappear..." Mulder nodded encouragingly at her, "...and one day...one day we'll have William."

She inhaled sharply on hearing her son's name. It wrenched her back to reality, to the dismal motel room, to custard-colored paint flaking from the walls and to a very unstable Fox Mulder. She threw his hands off of her mid-section, her brow furrowing deeper. "You need to stop this," she told him coldly, blinking back tears.

But anger fired in him and he raised off the chair to stand at full height. He pointed an accusing finger at her, "you started this. You made me a *father* Scully and then you just..." Even in the dull-wits of his hangover or heat of his temper, he knew better than to finish those words. He kicked at the nearest liquor bottle instead. "It was taken away from me, just like everything and *everyone* else!"

 

*****

The unremarkable bathroom

9:50pm

 

Tears ran down her flushed cheeks as they had often done in this room. She would cry in the shower, sobs smothered under the rush of water and tears washed quickly away. It was how she hid the heartbreak from Mulder. He knew of course, but only once did he show her that. She had been in the shower for nearly an hour that day and it was all he could stand. He shut off the water and threw a thick towel around her, pulling her out of the shower as if it was on fire and sinking to the cold, tiled floor with her. He cradled her against him as she cried hoarsely, "what did I do...what did I do..." Slowly her cries had subsided and she remembered lulling sleepily in his arms, faintly conscious of his gentle rocking and the kisses against her damp hair.

She loved him.

 

*****

The unremarkable living-room

10:02 pm

 

He didn't look up when she returned to the living-room. "Thought we could use more space." He indicated at the various files and papers now fanned out around him on the floor. The emotion displayed upstairs outside the bedroom had been replaced with a renewed down-to-business resolve. The fire was lit and its warm, amber glow softened the room. She sat on the floor next to where a coffee cup had been left for her, noticing that Mulder had placed it a safe distance from himself.

"Is it not more plausible that this is an organ theft ring?" She reiterated after listening to another ten minute modern-day Dr Frankenstein hypothesis.

"In rural Virginia, Scully?" He said, cracking a sunflower seed between his teeth. "An organ mafia operating out on Walton's Mountain?"

"Mulder, human organs have become a commodity. Organ theft exists because there is an international market for it. Organ brokers operate around the world, in Central and South America, India, China was exposed for selling organs of executed prisoners. There are buyers in Israel, America and Japan, to list but a few. The U.S has a substantial organ transplant waiting list, one that 6,000 people died last year while waiting on. "

"You're thinking someone wanted to cut in line?"

"I'm thinking that's not all they wanted to cut..." She said, nodding to the snowy crime scene images in his hand.

"This is an X-File, Scully." He said, laying the photographs down and folding his arms in front of his chest, "there's more to this than meets the eye..."

Mulder was making a third trip for coffee and she welcomed the breather. She stretched trying to ease the stiffness in her muscles, rubbing a knot in one of her shoulders. Yawning, she rested heavily against the nearby couch. The case at least gave them something to focus on that wasn't their own suffering. She felt a wave of sadness, thinking how much she enjoyed his company and realizing how much she had missed it. Her tired eyes drifted closed at the thought.

Scully slowly became aware of a gentle pressure warming her face. It penetrated through her sleep, sending a tingling feeling that was comforting and pleasurable. She stirred, mumbling Mulder's name and felt the sensation repeat itself. Her eyes fluttered open and she found his face touching hers, his lips tenderly sliding against her own. For a few moments she reciprocated, lightly brushing her mouth to his. "Mulder...don't", she said, drawing in a quick breath and feeling a pang of loss at breaking the contact.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his face an inch from hers. It was the softest his voice had been all night. "You should get some proper sleep, Scully." His fingers were caressing her hair and she didn't have the heart to stop him. His eyes fell to her shirt, "I can get you something to wear...?"

"No" Scully said a little too quickly. "I uh have spare scrubs in my bag." With the memories that had washed over her that evening, the thought of being enveloped in Mulder's clothes and having his smell rub against her skin until morning was too much.

"You can sleep upstairs," he suggested quietly, a statement of consent as well as an offer. His eyes had widened and were resting unfocused at a spot on the carpet. She studied the tired lines of his face in the firelight and watched him rub distractedly at his head. The idea of her sleeping alone in their bed was definitely a sore point for him. "You'd be more comfortable...," he continued.

"Here is fine."

He nodded, sticking a thumb in the direction of his office. "I'll be in there if..." but he didn't finish his words, instead rising slowly from the floor with his papers and retiring to his office.

In there if what? Scully wondered as he disappeared from view. She changed quickly and settled on the couch, finding a blanket to cover herself with. His kindness moved her and she fingered her lips quietly, remembering the sweet and hesitant touch.

*****

The unremarkable back yard

1:00 am

 

"Scully??" Mulder said louder. She sat on a weathered, wooden table in the yard, her feet resting on the bench. Light rain fell around them and the blue scrubs she wore were getting wetter by the minute.

"What are you doing Scully?" She took him in slowly, he was still wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and had hastily jammed his feet into a pair of running shoes.

"I came out for some air...," she said, her teeth lightly chattering. She could still hear the screams from her sleep.

"How long have you been sitting out here?" Her face had greyed since he last saw her, when he'd leaned in to ruby cheeks and soft lips by the warm fire. His hands ran over her shoulders and arms, reassuring himself that she was alright. "Scully you're cold and it's raining. I'm gonna take you back inside." He pulled at her arm but she didn't move.

"What is it?" Mulder asked as he watched her gaze at the night stars.

"Do you ever look at the stars and wonder if he's seeing them too?" She lowered her eyes to his. His eyes were even darker in the moonlight and his rain slick hair looked black.  

"Actually I hope he's got his butt in bed right now," he said with a hollow humor. "Which is where *yours* should be." He quickly added, eyes falling away from the damp material clinging to her frame.

"Why here, Mulder?" she asked, attempting the earlier night's question again.

He was quiet for a short time, his fingers tightening around her wrist. "We were happy here weren't we Scully?" He smiled down at her but she saw the redness in his eyes, heard the shake in his voice. He was seeking her reassurance.

She touched his cheek and offered a weak smile, "every day," she told him. "And that's why you came back here?"

He gave a simple nod before heaving a sigh. "I've believed in the unnatural, the impossible and the fantastic, so why not this?" He nodded around them, "a home, and *you* Scully and our child out playing in this yard..."

Her eyes fell to the fingers wrapped around her wrist and for a few moments she couldn't speak. Wind rustled in the trees and rain dripped through the last of the year's leaves. When she spoke, her voice shook. "My life is so dark Mulder. I'm afraid one day I'll be lost to it...never-ending darkness," she trailed off.

"I know you're scared about this case, about what it means returning to the field." He had seen the fear in her face at the hospital earlier that day.

She nodded, "and I'm scared by how my family will look at me, what I already see in my brother's eyes..." For years Bill had sneered at how easily Mulder bent her to his will. He wouldn't listen, couldn't understand that it was her choice, her will. Her brother's anger over William's adoption spilled out regularly. She had never asked him to agree with the choices she made, or even to accept them, only to respect her right and judgement to make them.

Mulder stepped closer to her and brushed strands of wet hair from her face. "If I could erase all the hurt I would. I can't," he said, shaking his head. "But when things get dark and you feel scared, I'll have your hand." He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it, holding it against his mouth for a few moments before leading it around his neck. In a smooth motion he lifted her into his arms and silently took her back into the house.

 

 

 

 


End file.
